


Slashy Stories

by Tuxedo_Elf



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-16 21:04:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3502694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tuxedo_Elf/pseuds/Tuxedo_Elf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short slashy stories featuring characters from the DC universe. Various pairings, NO underage stuff. Characters will be updated as needed.</p><p>Part 1 - Young Justice universe. Roy searches for the original Speedy. Jason tries to help, but there's a problem...<br/>Part 2 - Terrible pick up lines. Really, really, terrible...<br/>Part 3 - Bruce is starting consider getting therapy...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“So, how much longer do you plan to keep this up?” Jason asked, watching idly as Roy beat the crap out of another lowlife in his never-ending quest to find the first Roy, the one he'd been cloned from. 

“What is this, stupid question day?” Roy grunted as he pushed the now unconscious thug aside. “Until I find him of course.”

“And if you don't?” Jason looked dispassionately at the man on the floor. “Can't keep doing this forever.”

“Why not?” Roy relieved the man of his valuables before walking away. “Better than living the rest of my life knowing he's out there somewhere. Abandoned.”

“Cry me a river, Harper. Shit happens. It's not your fault. Move on.” The second Robin followed the ex-sidekick as he stomped inelegantly down another alley. 

“Yeah, like it's so easy.” Roy sighed. He was grateful for Jason's company, really, none of the others had shown much interest, but sometimes he just didn't get it. Jason meant the whole damn world to him, but he was impossible to be with these days. “You know, if the others knew you were here...”

Jason glared. “They don't. And they're not going to. This is between you and me.” That was the way it had always been. The way it should be. 

“Probably best,” Roy muttered, looking at Jason. Things were so messed up now. He wished things were as they used to be, when one of them would sneak off to the other's place and they'd kiss and _fuck_ and talk about nothing until they passed out. But no. Those days were gone. “Why _are_ you even here, Jason?” 

“Somebody has to be. Someone has to try and talk sense into you. Might as well be me.”

Roy let out a laugh, a rough, barking sound. “You?! Come on Jay, you're hardly the voice of reason here!” 

“Yeah, okay, I'm hardly the wizened sage.” Jason rolled his eyes. “But you used to listen to me. A lot.”

“Yeah, well, that was a long time ago.” Roy's grip on his bow tightened as he looked away. He just wanted to grab Jason, press him against that wall and go crazy, but he couldn't and it hurt. 

Jason crossed his arms, annoyed. “Not that long. What changed?”

“What... changed?!” Roy looked incredulous. “What changed?! You _died_ , you bastard! You died and the only thing I had left that made any fucking sense went away.” He felt sick as he stared at Jason, stared _through_ him, to the wall he couldn't push him up against and tried not to look at the mouth he couldn't kiss.

“Oh.” Jason looked awkward, lifting up his hand and seeing the ground through it. “Shit, sorry. I forget sometimes.” He didn't mean to. Being dead was _confusing_ and being a ghost even more so. 

Roy felt nauseous again. “Well I'm glad you can.” Bile burned at the back of his throat, because one day, he was going to wake up and Jason would be _gone_ , gone. He knew it. “Because I sure as hell can't.”

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the 'terrible pick up lines' theme. Adult!Damian and Dick.

"Did it hurt?"

"Grayson."

"When you fell from heaven."

"Grayson." Damian frowned, feeling a headache coming on. “Stop. You are drunk.” 

“I am not,” Dick protested, though the glass in his hand and the slight slur implied otherwise. Not that Damian, or anyone else, really blamed him. These charity events were painfully boring and since Dick was currently benched after a bullet to the thigh, there was no harm in a drink or two. Unfortunately a drink or two had been several drinks ago. 

“Yes, you are. You are slurring, you are wobbling – and your pick-up lines have become even worse – which is quite a feat, even for you, Grayson.” 

Dick grinned, leaning lazily on the chair. “But you're such an angel, Dami.”

“I am quite sure you are the first and only person to think so.” He frowned, wishing Dick would stop looking at him like that. It was – unsettling. 

“Nooo, everyone thinks so,” Dick insisted. “We missed you, Dami.” 

“I am sure Drake would disagree,” he replied. Eighteen months travelling the world had been delightful and gloriously solitary. No dealing with... this. 

“Ah, he's just blind to your charms,” Dick smiled, taking another sip of whatever was currently in his glass. 

“And you are blind drunk, Grayson.” God, had Dick been this bad before he'd left? He was sure Dick hadn't looked at him like that then. Of course, he'd left a child, come back a man. Nineteen now, nearly twenty. But he hadn't changed that much, had he? And it wasn't as though he liked it when Dick looked at him like that. He didn't. Of course not. 

So what the hell was that rush of heat when Dick leaned in close, breathing alcohol-scented breath on him?

“I still see you,” Dick purred, almost falling into Damian's lap, his hand steadying him by placing itself in a most unfortunate location. 

“Grayson!” Damian nearly jumped out of his seat, trying to ignore the rush of heat that came from that touch. He was never going to let Dick drink again. Dick couldn't handle it. He couldn't handle it. “You need to go to bed.”

“Okay. Come with me?” Dick's smile was utterly without shame. 

“Grayson! That is highly inappropriate!” Damian gave Dick the glare he usually reserved for Drake.

“Mmm,” Dick agreed, draping an arm around Damian. “So, will you?”

Damian sighed, pulling Dick to his feet. This was a terrible, terrible idea. Though apparently, he was doing it anyway. “If I do, will you stop using those dreadful lines?” 

Dick swayed against him, though managed to stay upright. “As long as you promise to come here often.”

Damian gasped, scandalised and almost lost his grip on Dick as he actually blushed. “Grayson!”

Dick laughed. 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


	3. Chapter 3

There was trauma, Bruce considered, and there was **trauma**. He was used to people telling him he was in need of help. He generally ignored them. But **this** – this he might really need therapy for. Of course, explaining Batman to a psychiatrist was probably easier than explaining that his adoptive son was dating his blood son. 

He groaned, trying to ignore the **other** groans that were coming from nearby. God. Ever since Damian had hit eighteen, it was like someone had flipped a hormone switch. He supposed, given how far ahead of his peers he was in most things, he was lucky he'd held out this long for... this. 

He absolutely did NOT want to know when Dick had started reciprocating the heated looks. (But he'd be lying if he didn't suspect it was a year or so ago, when Damian had most definitely stopped being a boy.) 

He'd rather thought, no he'd **hoped** , that Damian would see this side of life as another frivolous, pointless thing. Alas, hormones had outweighed even the deeply ingrained disdain for all things 'normal.' Unfortunately. 

“Ah!” He shoved his fingers in his ears as Damian cried out and God – no father needed to know **that** about their son – sons. Whatever. Now he **really** needed therapy. Then again, stories like this were probably the real reason Harley Quinn went mad. 

He just hoped they weren't having sex on the Batmobile. Again.


End file.
